


Tumblr shorts - Sam/Steve/Bucky

by galwednesday



Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Artist Steve Rogers, Counselor Sam Wilson, Daredevil listens for fights in alleys, Families of Choice, Fluff, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, M/M, RIP Sam's car insurance premiums, Steve Rogers gets beaten up in a lot of alleys, TBI recovery, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, besides ridiculous, this was bound to happen in some universe or another, what do you call a 2000+ word headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8228761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galwednesday/pseuds/galwednesday
Summary: Tumblr shorts featuring the all-Captain America OT3 trio!Chapter 1 - Cousin Steve and the Nelson Clan (Daredevil cross-over, no-serum AU). Matt Murdock finds teenaged Steve getting the shit kicked out of him in an alley and turns him over to Foggy; Steve gets a family (and, eventually, two excellent boyfriends).Chapter 2 - Outsider POV of Steve, Sam, and Bucky raiding Hydra bases. None of them is the sane one. N o n e o f t h e m.Chapter 3 - Soulmates AU version of the bridge fight, borderline crack.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when I was home sick and needed to wallow in some shameless hurt/comfort fluff. This is an AU of an AU and I’m never going to write a full-length fic for it, but I needed to write _something_ to get the concept out of my head and make room for other stuff, so here’s a long Okay But Consider headcanon for a modern, no-serum AU where Steve accidentally acquires a family.

Matthew Murdock is on one of his Midnight Prowls for Justice (as Foggy calls them) when he comes across a skinny teenager getting the shit kicked out of him in an alley. The three much bigger guys attacking him are easy to scare off, and Matt doesn’t bother chasing them. He crouches over the little guy on the ground. “You all right?”

The kid wipes a hand under his nose and scowls at the resulting blood smear. “I had ‘em on the ropes.”

Dealing with stubborn teenagers is outside of Matt’s usual skillset, but he convinces the kid to at least let someone check his ribs and maybe put a band-aid or three on the cut over his eye. He'll leave Foggy to do the actual doctoring; his bedside manner is a lot better, and he knows how to talk to kids.

  


* * *

  


Much, much later, Steve thinks about this night and remembers how close he was to stomping off in a huff, _I can get by on my own_ , and he shivers and burrows more tightly against the chest of the man sleeping beside him. 

  


* * *

  


Foggy isn’t thrilled to be woken up at 3:00am for more of Matt’s Vigilante Complications, but he’s not going to ignore a bleeding seventeen-year-old when one turns up on his doorstep, so he ushers Steve in and points him towards the couch. 

“Should I put a towel down?” Steve asks dubiously, one hand clamped over his nose.

“Don’t worry about it, that couch has seen way worse,” Foggy says blithely, before realizing maybe that’s not the most comforting thing to say to a stranger in his apartment, but Steve is already sitting down.

Steve falls asleep while Foggy is wrapping his knuckles. Foggy sighs, pulls a blanket over him, and goes to bed, muttering about idiots who don’t know how to stay out of fights or take care of themselves. It’s a well-worn rant, familiar and soothing as a lullaby.

  


* * *

  


When the doorbell rings the next morning, Steve lurches up from the couch and opens the door to Foggy Nelson’s mother, dressed for church and carrying a huge tupperware of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls. 

“Hello,” the woman says, blinking. “Are you a friend of my son’s?”

Foggy slides out of his bedroom in pajama pants and a battered t-shirt, one sock dangling half-off his foot. “Mom! Hi! Uh, this is Steve.”

  


* * *

  


Steve is persuaded to stay for Sunday brunch. He feels like he’s trespassed on Foggy’s hospitality enough, but he’s always had a hard time saying no to nice middle-aged ladies, and his mama’s ghost would scold him for a week if he was rude to Foggy’s mother.

“So, Steve,” Mama Nelson says, smiling and offering him a cinnamon roll. “Tell me about yourself.”

It comes out during the course of the morning that Steve is recently orphaned, and even more recently homeless, since he and his foster parents had an explosive fight over Steve kissing a boy within view of their front stoop. Mama Nelson’s smile goes steely and Foggy already knows what’s coming.

“We’re keeping him,” she tells Foggy while Steve is in the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Foggy agrees. “Who has a spare room?”

  


* * *

  


Steve winds up living with one of Foggy’s sisters. She and her husband have two kids a little older than him, and their son just started college, so they only have to change the sheets on the bed to get his room ready. Within a week, the entire Nelson clan is calling him Cousin Steve.

  


* * *

  


Steve stays on edge for months, trying to be as quiet and polite and unobtrusive as possible, ready for them to kick him out at the first sign of trouble. It isn’t until his first Nelson family potluck, when he meets fifty people in one afternoon and learns that half the Aunts and Uncles and Cousins aren’t actually related to anyone, that he realizes they’re serious about keeping him. He has to hide in the bathroom and cry for a couple minutes before he’s ready to go back out and give the younger kids airplane rides.

  


* * *

  


Matt helps Steve write his college admission essay. Steve takes out student loans, gets Pell grants, and works two jobs to make up the difference–he refuses to let the Nelsons help with tuition. His expensive textbooks and art supplies mysteriously arrive at his dorm, gifts from Nelsons unknown. Foggy cries like a baby at Steve’s graduation, half the Nelson clan in the stands around him, all of them ready to swarm Steve for hugs and photos the moment the ceremony is over. 

  


* * *

  


Steve meets Sam Wilson when he does a presentation at the VA about the benefits of art therapy. They get to talking and go out for coffee afterwards, which turns into a walk around town, which turns into an impromptu visit to a gallery with a few of Steve’s paintings on display, which turns into dinner, which turns into a midnight stroll through the park, which turns into Steve crashing on Sam’s couch because suddenly it’s 3:00am and _no man, don’t even worry about it, the buses don’t run this late and it’s a comfy couch, I promise_ , which turns into Steve tip-toeing through Sam’s kitchen making thank-you waffles the next morning, and everything snowballs from there.

  


* * *

  


They’ve been officially dating for six months when Steve gets lease renewal papers from his landlord, and Sam glances at them and says, matter-of-fact, “So, are we moving into your place or mine? Because I have more space now that Clint’s moved out, but your location is more central.” 

Steve sighs with relief and leans into Sam’s side. “Your place is closer to the cafe with the good bagels.”

“Very good point,” Sam says, and tosses Steve’s lease renewal papers into the recycling bin.

  


* * *

  


Steve is on his way to meet Sam at the VA when he spots someone huddled in an alley, curled up under a fire escape for what meager protection it gives against the rain. It’s spring, but early enough that the air still has a bite to it, and the wind is whipping the rain hard enough to sting. 

Steve doesn’t hesitate to detour into the alley and see if the man needs help. If nothing else, Steve can give him enough money to buy a cup of coffee and sit somewhere dry for a few hours.

  


* * *

  


“ _Bucky?_ ”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

  


* * *

  


James doesn’t remember everything, but he remembers some. He knows he was a soldier. He knows he was in Afghanistan, and he knows he lost his arm in an explosion, and he knows he has a traumatic brain injury, because the doctors told him so. He knows his name is James Buchanan Barnes. He knows his parents are dead and his sister is in Oregon and he doesn’t know her number. 

The things he knows get lost sometimes. It’s hard to think, especially when it’s cold. He doesn’t like the cold.

He knows the man in front of him is familiar. The man says his name is Steve, and that feels right. He knows that Steve means something good. He lets Steve help him to his feet, although he refuses to take Steve’s jacket when Steve tries to give it to him. He knows he’s down and out, but he’s not going to let Steve go cold in his place, he knows that’s all wrong. It’s his job to look out for Steve. He remembers that. Steve is important.

  


* * *

  


Steve leads him out of the alley, and James follows. 

  


* * *

  


They’ve been at the VA center for an hour, James’ hand wrapped around a steaming mug of peppermint tea while Steve and Sam talk quietly on the other side of the room, when James remembers.

“I know you,” he says. 

Steve’s head comes up fast, like he’s been waiting this whole time for James to speak. “Yeah, you do. We were friends when we were kids.”

“We grew up on the same street,” he says, slowly, making sure he gets the words right. “You moved away when your mom died. You used to call me Bucky.”

“Yeah, I did.” Steve looks ready to cry, but he still smiles wide. “Should I call you something else now?”

“Nah,” he says, “Bucky’s good. I like it.”

When Steve and Sam go home, Bucky goes with them. 

  


* * *

  


Sam and Steve’s apartment has a spare bedroom. Bucky moves in, hesitant but not too proud to take a warm, safe place if it’s offered, and makes it his base camp. 

  


* * *

  


He goes to the VA. He goes to medical appointments. He goes to therapy. When he forgets where he’s supposed to be going or how to get there, he ducks into a doorway and calls Steve or Sam (they’re both saved in his phone twice, once under their names and once under CALL IF LOST), and they remind him. 

At the end of every day he closes his bedroom door and leans against it and tells himself he’s getting better.

  


* * *

  


“Better is a direction,” Sam tells him, hands steady and sure as he turns hot dogs at the July 4th VA cookout. There are mountains of burgers and pasta salad and absolutely no fireworks. “Not a destination. All you can do is keep moving.” 

Slowly, in fits and starts, with a lot of backsliding and a few glorious leaps forward, Bucky gets better.

  


* * *

  


Bucky flirts with Sam because it’s fun and it makes him feel human. Sam likes to reply with the most ridiculous pick-up lines he can think of, and half the time both of them crack up laughing while Steve gives exaggerated groans in the background. It would probably be fun to flirt with Steve, too, but Bucky remembers the puppy love he felt for Steve when they were both sixteen and it feels too bittersweet to joke about something that might have been real if things had worked out differently. 

He knows Steve doesn’t mind him flirting with Sam, but it takes Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize Sam is serious, and Steve doesn’t just not mind, he’s all for it. 

The first time Bucky does flirt with Steve, sweaty-palmed and ready to laugh it off and never try again if it goes sideways, Steve lights up like a bonfire and gives as good as he gets.

  


* * *

  


Bucky’s room goes back to being a spare room. The master bedroom acquires a bigger bed.

  


* * *

  


Thanksgiving rolls around and Steve brings both Sam and Bucky to the massive Nelson family dinner. Mama Nelson takes one look at Bucky, stiff and terrified and trying so damn hard to keep his shit together, and whisks him off into the relative quiet of the kitchen. 

She hands him a potato masher and heaps cubes of boiled potatoes into a dutch oven, heavy-bottomed enough that Bucky doesn’t have to worry about bracing it while he mashes one-armed. She runs through a patter of light gossip until Bucky’s shoulders have relaxed, then slowly draws him into the conversation with innocuous questions about Sam and Steve. He calls her _ma'am_ and attempts a slightly rusty version of the charm that got him extra cookies from his grandmother when he was growing up. 

  


* * *

  


Mama Nelson officially adopts him sometime in between fluting the pie crusts and sieving the gravy, although it takes Bucky a while to realize this.

  


* * *

  


“Our Steve found himself a pair of real gentlemen,” one aunt murmurs to another while they slice the pumpkin pies. “Such handsome boys! And so polite.”

“If I were forty years younger, I would climb either one of them like a tree,” Aunt Velma says, and knocks back her third gin-and-tonic.

  


* * *

  


They promise to come back in a month for Christmas and stagger home carrying huge bags of leftovers. The November air is crisp enough that their breath steams, but Bucky feels warm all the way down to his bones.

  


* * *

  


For New Year’s, they pull the drapes and turn on all the lights to block out the flash of fireworks. Sam and Bucky both put on noise-cancelling headphones (this year’s gift from Santa Nelson) and plop onto the couch. Steve sprawls over both of their laps.

“Happy New Year,” Steve mouths. 

“Happy New Year,” Sam says, kissing Steve’s cheek.

“Happy New Year,” Bucky says, and mercilessly tickles Steve’s feet until Sam whacks him in the face with a pillow.

  


* * *

  


They all still have bad days, but they have each other to help get through them. They are family and safe haven and _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is just so achingly lonely and I cannot STAND it, my heart cannot take it. I see Steve and I see Bucky and I have to throw them both onto the bosom of a loving family, and the Nelsons were right there ready and waiting to pick up strays, and Sam was right there with his enormous warm heart. 
> 
> I just *clutches face with both hands* I'M GETTING VERKLEMPT
> 
> Original post on Tumblr [here](https://galwednesday.tumblr.com/post/151430830018/cousin-steve-and-the-nelson-clan)!


	2. Fire in the Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From [this Tumblr prompt](https://galwednesday.tumblr.com/post/154860315598/kiriei-we-need-some-of-sam-raiding-hydra-bases) by kiriei: _We need some of Sam raiding hydra bases with the two idiots I mean Steve and Bucky_
> 
> I had been seeing that post about how Sam Wilson is Not the Sane One going around, and I thought it’d be fun to do a ficlet where they’re all as bad as each other, so here’s an outsider POV on an All Caps raid on a Hydra base.

Ravi snapped to attention as the surveillance panel flashed half a dozen red warning lights at once. “Captain Rogers, there are approximately eight hostiles immediately west of your location,” he said urgently. “Hostiles appear to have been using a cloaking device and are armed with--”  


“Don’t bother,” Agent Hayes interrupted. She threw her foam stress ball at the wall of their tactical support van, angled so she could catch it on the bounce. “They always mute the comm line before they start a raid. They think we’re too distracting.”

Ravi looked at his superior officer with concealed horror. He was only a trainee--this was his first real mission acting as SHIELD support--but he was pretty sure that one of the essential parts of providing back-up was to actually be able to communicate with the agents in the field. “But--how do Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes communicate with the Falcon?”

“They have their own comms. You can listen in on channel 6.”

Ravi re-keyed his comm and identified Sergeant Barnes’ low growl.

“--if you don’t stop stealing my targets, Wilson.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t have a full field of vision way down there on the ground, Mr. Super Sniper. Oh, hey, lemme get that for you,” the Falcon added, dropping another Hydra agent before Sergeant Barnes could get a bead on him.

“Steeeeeve!” Sergeant Barnes whined. “Make him stop.”

"Shouldn’t’ve made that Chair Force crack, Buck. Oh, and you might wanna duck,” Captain Rogers added casually, right before hurling his shield in a throw that clipped a Hydra agent and would have decapitated Sergeant Barnes if he hadn’t dropped flat half a second earlier. Ravi’s whole body jerked in sympathy.

Ravi had no idea why Captain Rogers’ team thought SHIELD being on comms would be distracting, since they seemed to do nothing _but_  distract each other with shit-talking and terrible jokes as they moved into the base. Ravi sat on the edge of his seat and tried not to wince every time one of them almost got shot.

His surveillance gear emitted a shrill warning beep as soon as Captain Rogers moved into the north quadrant.

“Scans are picking up stockpiles of plastic explosives stored on level three.” Heart pounding, Ravi tried to calculate the anticipated blast radius and an approximate safe distance if Hydra set the explosives off.

“Oh, yeah?” Agent Hayes threw her ball again. Ravi felt his eye twitch.

“Huh,” Captain Rogers said thoughtfully. “There’s a shit-ton of C4 in here. It’s already armed, too. Looks like a booby trap.”

The Falcon snorted. “Well, now, that’s just inhospitable. You need evac?”

"Nah, I’ll be fine. Grab Bucky and get higher. I’m going to throw the explosives down the elevator shaft and find a bolt hole to ride out the blast. Don’t give the bastards time to regroup, make a choke point by the west corridor and I’ll meet you there.”

Sergeant Barnes gave an offended grunt. “Hey, easy on the goods, Wilson!”

“Christ, you’re heavy. And if you don’t wanna be grabbed, wear a fucking harness like Steve so I don’t have to carry you around like a toddler.”

“Three, two, one,” Captain Rogers shouted cheerfully. “Fire in the hole!”

There was a blast of static as the comms shorted out. The thermal display whited out with the heat of the explosion, showing a column of fire surging upward through the Hydra base. Ravi gripped the edge of his chair so tightly he left fingernail dents in the plastic.

The comms clicked back online to a chorus of gleeful cackling on all three lines.

“Oh, good lord,” Ravi said, before remembering that he was supposed to be a professional. “Uh, I mean, the operatives are, agents’ status is, I have verification that--”

“Take a deep breath,” Agent Hayes advised.

“The operatives are bloody _bonkers_. Ma'am,” he added belatedly.

“Yes, they are.” Agent Hayes gave him a sympathetic look, which was actually the most alarming thing to happen to him all day. “And since you made it through your first support op for the Cap Squad without actually crying or passing out, unlike most of the agents who’ve pulled this assignment, I’m afraid you’re going to be seeing a lot more of them.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Ravi said numbly.

“Congratulations on passing your field test, and welcome to SHIELD.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”


	3. Perfect Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to [this Tumblr prompt](https://galwednesday.tumblr.com/post/166148656823/for-the-ask-meme-samstevebucky-all-caps?is_related_post=1) from chibisquirt: _For the ask meme: Sam/Steve/Bucky (ALL CAPS!), #1, please! I loved your a/b/o fic, I can't wait to see what you do with soulmates!_
> 
> Okay, my first attempt at this slid rapidly into Angst and also wanted to be several thousand words long, so with attempt number 2 I course-corrected all the way into borderline crack. Here’s an alternate take on how the bridge fight might have gone in an ALL CAPS soulmate AU in which Sam Wilson was Done With Everything.

The connection snapped into place right as the Winter Soldier ripped the steering wheel out of Sam’s car, and just like that, Sam had two soulmates taking up space in his head.

Even amidst the panic, adrenaline rush, and ridiculously misplaced outrage (he had just paid off his car loan, goddamn assassins smashing up his goddamn windshield and driving up his goddamn insurance premiums), Sam had a little room left over to feel exasperated at the universe’s sense of timing, which was _utter shit_. He had found his soulmates, whoop-de-fuckin’-do, and thirty seconds later one of them was fighting the other to the death. Because of course they were. Of course Sam couldn’t have a nice, normal soulmate meeting; his had to be full of dramatic white boys and automatic weapons fire.

“Bucky?” Steve had lowered the shield and was giving the Winter Soldier puppy eyes. The serum must have shoved his self-preservation out of the way to make room for all the muscles.

The Winter Soldier–who was _Bucky fucking Barnes_ , fuck Sam’s life–fired at him. Steve barely got the shield back up in time. Sam groaned and started running towards them, praying his scary assassin soulmate wouldn’t kill his giant sitting duck soulmate before he could even introduce himself properly.

When Barnes fired again, Steve yelled through the bond. _Bucky, STOP!_

Sam leapt over a car trunk added his own mental shout. _Stand down, soldier!_

Barnes paused, his gun still pointed right at Steve’s face. Sam moved closer, edging around Barnes in a wide circle until he was almost within arm’s reach of Steve.

Then Barnes shifted the gun to point at _Sam_ , and Sam froze with his hands up.

“Bucky,” Steve said desperately, “don’t do this. You _know_ me. Sam’s ours. He’s the one we were waiting for, Bucky, remember?”

Barnes’ eyes darted around wildly, but his aim was perfectly steady. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Instead of answering verbally, Steve pushed a rush of memories through the bond. Sam winced and instinctively tried to cover his ears. Barnes wound up on his knees with his arms wrapped around his head.

“Who are you?” Barnes said, out loud and through the bond. _I can’t–_

_We’re your soulmates_ , Sam said.

Barnes looked up, eyes lost and confused, his mind tentatively reaching out, and it was a touching and heartfelt moment until Natasha dropped down behind him and tased him into unconsciousness.

“ _Natasha_ ,” Steve said, scandalized.

“What? Hydra’s coming, we gotta go, find a car to hotwire and move your ass.” She grabbed Barnes around the middle and sagged under his weight. “Wilson, grab his feet.”

Sam helped the Black Widow haul one of his soulmates into the backseat of an abandoned minivan, where they dropped him onto a pile of dry cleaning and fast food wrappers. Sam collapsed onto the seat behind him and made a conscious effort to look on the bright side. At this year’s Thanksgiving, he was going to absolutely _crush_ the Who Had the Most Interesting First Soulmate Meeting competition.


End file.
